


Empty with You

by vcent



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Angst, Depression, Internal Monologue, It's just sad I'm sorry, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcent/pseuds/vcent
Summary: He Tian has been gone for ten years. Life hasn't been what Mo wanted. But does it really matter? Does anything matter anymore?
Relationships: He Tian & Mo Guanshan (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Mo Guanshan/She Li (19 Days)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	Empty with You

**Author's Note:**

> This is just sadness, I'm sorry.

He curls into himself. It hurts. It's like being pulled apart from the inside. Tearing flesh and bone and leaving nothing but a hole. A heart to rotten in the open. For the crows to pick and tear some more. For the worms to devour. A shell of who he used to be.

He Tian is not here. He hasn't been for years. He's gone, and Mo hasn't know anything about him in 10 years. They're not kids anymore. Guan Shan forgets his face sometimes. He probably doesn't look anything like he did back there.  
  
He stopped caring. He stopped yearning years ago. It all blurred into the mess that his life was. Pain. Just that. Memories to forget. Words that meant nothing. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself ". "Promise me you won't forget me".  
  
Who cares? Guan Shan is nothing but a disappointment. His mom dead and his father still locked up. What does it matter if he takes care of himself or not? He's breathing. He's eating. That should be enough. He should know that is enough. That's all he can do, anyways. Try to stay alive. To keep going. For what? It's been ten years. Ten years of silence. Ten years of doubt. Ten years of being let down. Ten years of nothing. Guan Shan doesn't care. Not anymore. Or that's what he says.  
  
He Tian was the only hand he ever reached to take. The only heart that ever opened to him. The only shoulders he could ever cry on. The only one who left him.  
  
Life after High School was as good as it could get. Alone and abandoned, Guan Shan didn't have many options. His mom died, just like that. Just like He Tian left one day. No one was there. But he was. With that vicious smile and those vacant eyes. Fear. Pain. That was all. But it was something. It was better than nothing.   
  
"Tough day, little Mo?" Guan Shan had wanted to throw up. To cry. To punch him in the face. Not him. He couldn't call him that. But, cry for what? For a memory? For someone who wasn't there? For his broken heart?  
  
She Li rested his hand on Mo's shoulder like the funerary agent had done before. Like he was going to actually comfort Guan Shan. "Now you have nothing but me".  
  
Life was easy after that. Steal, cheat, beat, kill. Whatever She Li wanted. Whatever will pay. It didn't matter. Guan Shan hadn't been born for nothing else. He had nothing. She Li was right. Life was easy. Getting into She Li's bed had been easy. Stripping himself and laying there had been easy. It was mechanical. It was nothing. It served him right. "The boss' bitch". No one could touch him.  
  
Then it started. The pain. Tiny bites at the edges of his conciousness that meant nothing. A brief pair of eyes that would replace She Li's gaze above him. It punched the air out of him, and She Li smirked. A pull at his chest like his lungs were being ripped. A stray tear that ran down his face. It meant nothing, it was nothing. She Li would laugh, say it was good. He liked him when he cried. He liked him when he was miserable. And so Guan Shan allowed more tears to flow. Those were the only times Guan Shan allowed himself to cry, when She Li was fucking him. The pain would flow through his body. Bite at every edge and tear apart his bones. His nerves on edge. His chest constricted and his throat sore. She Li liked it. Mo never came. That was enough. They both got what they wanted. Some kind of relief. Some kind of touch. Some type of warmth. Someone that needed them. For whatever. Whenever. It didn't matter. She Li never asked. Mo never told.  
  
The pain spreads through his cold sheets and Mo wishes his tears would come. Something for it to stop. But She Li is out of the country and Mo's left to bear with it. With the memories. With the nothingness. He stopped caring. He stopped being angry a long ago. He didn't trash the tiny room he lived in every time he dreamed of He Tian. Not anymore. He didn't have to listen to his own cries ring in the emptiness. He never cried alone ever again. Just the pain. The pain would never stop. Even if Mo didn't care, even if Mo tried to forget. Ten years. And it never stopped.  
  
The pain overflows his body and stains the walls in his room. Drips on his bed and his carpet. Shatters his window and lets the cold slip. He can't feel his fingertips anymore. Just the hole in his chest. That's all he has become. A massive black hole that lives and breathes.  
  
There's a knocking on his door. She Li is out of the country. No one else knows where he lives. But, there's a knock on his door. Mo is in no condition to fight anyone right now. His body aches. His ribs feel like they're all broken. They probably are. He knows his lip is still burning from the split he got early this week. But his body still stiffens at the third knock.  
  
"Mo?" It sounds like someone he used to know. It sounds like something he used to want. It sounds like something he used to respond to. But it's foreign. It pure nostalgia what makes him think is someone else. It can't be. It's been ten years. He must have had a fever. He's hearing things. "Little Mo?"  
  
His heart rattles. Guan Shan just stares at the door. Why isn't the door opening? He can't stand. He can't walk. He can't breathe. It feels like he's made of stone. Of ice. Solid ice. That voice.  
  
"It's me". It's me, he says. Like Mo would know. Like Mo would care. Like it should mean something. It's been ten years. Whoever that is, it isn't who Mo wants. He isn't what He Tian wants. He broke his promise. He's not that child. He is something else. Something blank, something empty.  
  
He Tian sighs on the other side of the door and Mo just stares. If he stands now, he will break. His whole body will break and lay in pieces on the floor. His sanity will break. Why? Why now? He can't. He can't. Why now?  
  
"I'm sorry". It sounds broken. Like He Tian is breaking too. It sounds like the 15 years old child that once broke in front of him. Like the pain that Mo feels, He Tian feels it too. And his tears flow. They're quiet at first. Like the ones he cried during the first year. When he made himself push through it. Like the ones that would come only at night, when he allowed himself to.  
  
Then they're big fat tears running down his face and making his sight blurry. Like the ones that would appear out of nowhere during the third year. When he was walking down the street and a breeze would hit him. In the middle of the street. It shook his body. It meant real pain.  
  
Those only gave way for the angry ones. For the ones that would trash his whole body when his mom died. When She Li first came to him. When Mo would scream He Tian's name and curse his existence. When Mo missed him the most.  
  
They flow for hours, minutes, seconds. Mo doesn't know how time works anymore. It had stopped long ago. When he left. When he last saw his face.  
  
Mo doesn't feel like it's him who's moving. He hasn't been himself for ten years. It feels like walking on clouds. A slip and you will fall. Crash into the concrete. Break your skull against it. Mo is holding into nothing. Pure hope he didn't even know he held. Just a little more. He opens the door. There's nothing. There's no one. It never is. Sometimes is a longer conversation. Sometimes just his name whispered. Something that makes him whip his head in the street. Something that makes him free fall into the concrete. He doesn't know how long he has been hearing He Tian's voice in his own head. He doesn't know how longer he will. It doesn't matter. Mo doesn't care. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first angst ever, and I don't even know. Also, I'm sorry about any gramatical mistakes. I'll probably edit it later. Thanks for reading.


End file.
